


Cuddles and Ginger Beer

by vmdraco



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Drunk!Doctor, Episode: s03e06 The Lazarus Experiment, Fluff and Angst, Gen, but can be perceived that way, drunk, not really 10/martha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 04:43:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7830760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vmdraco/pseuds/vmdraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drunk!Doctor, oneshot, mild 10/Martha fluff; After facing Professor Lazarus and becoming a new companion, Martha finishes her sleep cycle to find that the Doctor isn't in his TARDIS. Concerned, she disembarks the time machine to find him in an alien pub, completely pissed. Unfortunately for Martha, it was going to be one long night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cuddles and Ginger Beer

**Author's Note:**

> Another older fic from fanfiction.net, which I decided to somewhat revise and post here. Not much has changed from the original, but there are some sentence structure changes. That's it tho lol 
> 
> trigger warning: mentions of suicide, just in case

It felt like mere minutes since Martha fell asleep, because the moment she opened her eyes she could have sworn her head had just hit the pillow. Checking the time was of no use to her in a time machine, and she hoped that she got plenty of hours. She didn’t feel as though she received a well-needed rest after traveling, however; her eyes felt dry and irritated, as well as ridiculously heavy. Being away from her bed at home was difficult to adjust to.

Stretching and rubbing the sand off of her tear ducts, she got out of bed and drifted lazily to the bathroom to brush her teeth and neaten her messy hair just in case she ran into the Time Lord. She blushed at the thought of it, having a few naughty fantasies about her and him in the control room. However, she didn’t hear a single switch go off just around the corner, so she assumed the Doctor had already landed somewhere and was waiting for her. Martha didn’t expect anything planned for her particularly, since he didn’t act as smitten as she was, but going on another trip was worth the lack of reciprocation.

Still in her vest top and shorts, she went below the main deck of the control room to make herself a nice cup of coffee as thoughts of the last view days flickered in her mind. She remembered that the Time Lord kept a small kitchen and already took advantage of it despite only traveling in the TARDIS for a short time. As she was finishing her coffee the Doctor was nowhere to be seen.

_I’ll give him a few more minutes, then. He can’t be too far, anyway._

She entered the fridge to find that there wasn’t much there, as she expected considering he could go anywhere in space and time as he pleased to grab something better than cold turkey. Sighing as her stomach growled, she shut the fridge and noticed something dropping from the top. Furrowing her eyebrows, she bent down to immediately recognize the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver, which made her widen her eyes in sudden amazement.

“How can he forget his sonic screwdriver?” she asked herself, holding the device in her hands before pocketing it. _I swear he even showers with the thing._

Martha began to worry just by the knowledge of his sonic screwdriver being left behind, knowing just how useful the item was for him. Even worse is that he could have landed someplace she’s never been to before, with him roaming about alone. Feeling much too tired to even deal with the concept, she rubbed her face as she stood back up, noticing a few empty glass bottles on the top of the refrigerator. She picked one of them up to read “Ginger Beer” on the label, confusing her even more at his choice of beverage. Rolling her eyes, she put the bottle on the counter beside her and exited the kitchen.

“Doctor!” she shouted, hoping that he would answer her, but to no avail. “Doctor, for god’s sake! Where are you?” She didn’t know much about the TARDIS, but she did the best she could in looking for him in the nearby rooms. It was subtle, but she felt as though the TARDIS was helping her by not showing many rooms at all, indicating to her that there wasn’t any need to check them. Running back to the control room, she shouted his name one last time before giving up, growling to herself at the thought of him abandoning her in a place she had no knowledge of.

She burst the TARDIS doors open, aggravated and desperate, only to halt in surprise. The TARDIS was parked on an alien street, and she stared at the many skyscrapers and floating aircrafts that littered the midnight sky. Several unknown species, including catkind, humans, and Judoons patrolling the streets down south, passed her in the crowded area. They all stared at her in confusion as Martha stood outside barefoot and hardly clothed, but continued on their way without a second glance. Martha felt defeated at the large scale of the planet that the Doctor decided to abandon her on, but decided to look in the closest store that caught her attention.

From afar, she noticed what she presumed to be a bar that lit up the street like a match in a dark room; judging from the ginger beer bottles in the TARDIS kitchen, she took what she thought as clues and crossed over to the other street without getting run over by carriages pulled by stork-like animals and floating vehicles. Despite being partially dressed with no shoes, she entered the bar feeling irritated yet worried simultaneously. She feared the Doctor might be hurt or in trouble, and searched all around the place to catch a glimpse of a hazel-colored overcoat with a brown, pinstriped suit. The bar was rather large, and probably had a second floor, but already feeling exhausted and fueled by anger Martha took a seat at the nearest booth and huffed to herself.

“I wonder if he does this to all his companions,” she wondered, holding her head with her hand. “Or maybe it’s just _me._ He sure as hell wouldn’t do this to _Rose_ , that’s for sure. Whoever the hell she is.”

“Gimme ‘nother on the house, then!” she heard across the room. Martha immediately recognized it as the Doctor’s voice, and instantly she looked around in the direction in which she heard him. Low and behold, she finally found the troublesome Time Lord sitting at another bar-stooled area on the other side of the ground floor, his back to hers. While a common sight in the place she was in Martha took particular interest in what he was gulping down, his head tilting back as if to taste every last drop. If she wasn’t so angry she would have run over and snogged the living daylights out of him from the comfort of him still being alive and out of danger. She walked over sternly, ready to be cross with him.

 _I swear to god, if he_ ever _does this to me again there will be hell to pay!_

She took a seat directly beside him, her arms crossed over with her eyes full of ice as she waiting to be noticed. However, the Doctor was much too preoccupied with the straw he was nursing rather than notice the brooding female beside him; the glass looked like an energy-saving light bulb with a small serving cup at the top (which Martha assumed was the part he was chugging down just moments earlier), with the straw having the same shape and dexterity to maneuver inside and guzzle the last few drops at the bottom. Martha wondered how the Doctor could even stand the stuff, considering its color was a marbled blue-green and looked almost toxic.

After a minute or two, she was fed up of waiting. “Doctor!”

Her voice wasn’t even that loud, but the Doctor nearly fell off his stool and looked at Martha before giving her a bright smile, his thin body swaying slightly as he used the table for support.

“Why, Martha Jones, it’s so nice to see you!” he said boisterously, hardly able to keep eye contact. He started leaning against her, and it took all of Martha’s willpower to not strangle his pretty little neck. “Don’t mind me, Martha, ‘ust out for a little drink, is all…” With the glass in his other hand he struggled to even bring the straw to his mouth, taking large sips of his beverage with great enthusiasm. Martha was particularly alarmed by the speed in which he was drinking, watching his Adam’s apple bob vigorously.

“It doesn’t look like you had _a_ drink, Doctor,” Martha growled, pushing the Doctor away as he swayed backwards, a grin still plastered on his face. By now Martha was determined to get him out of his stupor. Part of her was scared of the sight in front of her, not believing that the Doctor could be so irresponsible. “But that is beside the point! Where on earth have you been, Doctor?”

Giggling, the Doctor said, “’ve been here, of course, you silly little ape, you!” He attempted at poking her nose to emphasize his ludicrous point, but ended up nearly poking her in the eye instead.

“Yeah? Well _where_ is _here_? You can’t just leave me alone in the TARDIS like this! What if you ended up dead? What if I couldn’t find you? Do you have any idea how mad I am right now? What if—”

“Shhhhhh….” The Doctor said, attempting at putting a finger to her lips as he stumbled on his stool, pushing poor Martha back on her seat. “You… you ‘ust need a drink, Mart’a, no worries; OI, BARTENDER!” Martha felt so embarrassed as the Doctor yelled, nearly falling off his stool, trying to get the attention of the idiot who thought it was a good idea to continually give the Doctor drinks. Martha couldn’t even comprehend the idea of the Doctor even getting as intoxicated as he was now, because he constantly bragged about how Time Lords couldn’t get drunk like humans could.

 _I’m sure that was a lie,_ Martha thought bitterly.

Sure enough, a humanoid-looking woman with olive-green hair who served the general public approached them, looking as though she’d been working at the counter for the past twelve hours and was willing to go home. “What can I get you, love?” the woman asked.

“Same ‘s b’fore,” the Doctor slurred, a loud and obnoxious hiccup escaping his throat soon afterward. As the woman did her job, the Doctor was giggling like a child, laughing at his own diaphragm spasms. “Oh… oh no!” he said, tears threatening to roll down his face. “’ve got them again!” He continued laughing, his giggles mixing in with his hiccups, which seemed to get worse the more he continued chortling.

Martha was about to throw an immature tantrum once the woman returned with another drink, steam coming out of her ears out of sheer annoyance. The bartender, on the other hand, looked reluctant to serve the drunken man in front of her because of the obvious consequences. “Are you kidding me? He’s had way too much as it is!” She turned to the Doctor. “Doctor, you’ve had more than enough, let’s go! And I sure as hell am not done yelling at you!”

She got up from her stool and began tugging at his free arm as the other was gripping the table as though it were his favorite blanket. “Nooooo,” the Doctor whined. “I dun— _hic_ —want to allons-y!” As Martha was unsuccessfully tugging at his arm, he turned to the bartender who was watching with amusement. “Allons-y… it-it means, ‘let’s go’. It’s French, you know.”

After a short minute Martha had given up, looking at the bartender with a look of defeat. “How much did he have?”

The bartender shrugged. “I’m guessing around… seven? This being his eighth?” She pointed to the beverage. “This is some wicked-strong stuff. I’m amazed on how much he could handle. The average I see being drunk at a time is three. This is beyond my comprehension, that’s for sure.” Once again, the Doctor was suckling relentlessly at his beverage, his body convulsing violently as another hiccup erupted from his diaphragm the moment he broke with the straw for air. “This is the third time he’s had the hiccups tonight. Needless to say it was funny the first time.”

Martha could only gap, trying to count the number of drinks he had when she included the several bottles of ginger beer she found earlier on top of the fridge.

 _Good lord…_  

Martha started to realize how important it was that she got the Doctor back into the TARDIS as soon as possible. It wouldn’t be long before he would start retching everything he’s consumed back up. She gave him credit, though, for being able to hold as much as he did. She figured that’s how Time Lord biology was considered superior in the Doctor’s eyes. “Oh my god,” she said aloud, rubbing her face. “Doctor, c’mon, you have to come with me.” She once again pulled on him, but he refused to give up his seat. At this point her anger had dwindled considering how irrational the Doctor was at that moment, and by now only wanted to get him in a safe place.

The Doctor moaned annoyingly as he looked as though he were going to drift off to sleep. He continued to nurse like a newborn kitten, selfishly gulping with all his might as though it were mother’s milk. “I dun wanna,” he groaned. “It’s so good, Mart’a, lemme— _hic_ —finish.” The bartender sighed, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly as her customer’s friend tried and failed at getting him away from the table. To Martha’s delight, the woman circled from behind the counter and met up with the two of them on the other side. As Martha pulled, the bartender pried the straw away from the Doctor’s lips, making him all the more frustrated. The bartender soon disposed of the beverage behind the table, and returned to Martha’s side.

It seemed as though the Doctor was giving up at last as his body was weakening. Martha noticed how lethargic he was getting and picked up the pace, putting his arm across her shoulders and trying to stand him up. The Doctor was still wobbly on his feet and could hardly walk. All the while, amazingly, he was still smiling and laughing as though everything were a joke.

“’re we goin’ out dancing?” he slurred. “I love dancing…”

“No, Doctor, we’re getting your sorry arse back to the TARDIS,” grumbled Martha.

Slowly yet surely, Martha as well as the female bartender supported the Doctor on the way out of the door. It took a long time due to the Doctor’s uneven footsteps (his height compared to the shorter females didn’t help the situation), but Martha was finally able to let the Doctor lean against something other than her own body. She let the Doctor slide down, back against the TARDIS, a goofy grin still present on his face as his eyes fluttered sleepily.

The bartender looked a bit sheepish as Martha rubbed her eyes and yawned. “I’m sorry, love,” she said to Martha. “I was just doing my job, you know. I’m hoping I’ll still keep it after tonight...”

Martha saw the guilt in the woman’s eyes. “Seriously, sweetheart, there is no need to apologize. It’s his bloody fault he ended up wasted, not yours. Still… I appreciate this _so_ much.” She gave her a reassuring smile.

The bartender smirked. “Are you two…?”

It took a little bit for Martha to catch on due to her own sleepiness, but she shook her head, her own sheepish grin on her face at the thought of it. “No, we’re not.”

The woman laughed, saying, “Well, he’s still cute tipsy, if not loud.”

Martha laughed along with her and tried to forget how the Doctor didn’t feel the same way she did, which panged her heart. “What’s you’re name?”

“Olive,” said the bartender, rolling her eyes as she pointed at her hair. “Original, huh?”

“Oh, stop, it’s a nice name regardless,” Martha said.

“Martha…” Martha turned around and noticed that the Doctor was moving again. She knelt beside the Time Lord, feeling somewhat more patient, responding in a motherly way she didn’t realize she was imitating.

“What, Doctor?” she asked him, rubbing his arm.

The Doctor turned his head towards Martha’s face as he opened his eyes, and was having a lot of trouble focusing as he was struggling to stay awake. He mumbled, “Why’s ev’rythin’ spinnin’?”

“Because you’re drunk as a skunk, darling,” she replied.

The Doctor groaned softly, placing his hands on his stomach as he turned to his side. “Tummy hurts.”

Martha only shook her head, rolling her eyes as the Doctor shut his eyes again. She assumed he was trying to ignore the pounding in his skull. She couldn’t help but lift some of his hair out of his face and back against his colic, rubbing his cheek affectionately. Martha stopped herself once she noticed that Olive was still there. Feeling bashful she stood up, sighing.

“Thank you so much for helping,” she said. “Did he pay?”

“T’was nothing,” said Olive, shaking Martha’s hand. “He stopped paying some four drinks ago; at that point I just wanted him to leave before he hurts himself.   Don’t even bother taking out your wallet because I honestly don’t care about that anymore. You take care of yourselves, yeah? You sure you don’t need some help getting him in?”

“Nah, I can handle it, thanks,” Martha said. Olive soon left with a wave as she jogged back to the bar. Martha was amazed that Olive didn’t question why they were at a blue box, but was thankful all the same that she only asked the right questions. Martha watching her go and sighed to herself, dreading the next few minutes of having to care for a soon-to-be-sick Time Lord.

“Martha,” she heard him moan. She turned back to him and noticed how he didn’t look as jovial as he was before. He looked noticeably pale and was still holding his aching stomach, lying on his side against the TARDIS doors.

“I’m coming, love,” Martha sighed. “You’re going to have to move those legs again, okay?” She received another groan from him, but he did nothing to protest as she counted to three and got him back on his feet. She took the key from his pocket and opened the doors, shutting them behind her and walked the best she could with the Doctor in tow.

“I wanna sit doooown,” the Doctor groaned again. He was reaching for the couch near the monitor, but Martha kept leading him away.

“Not until I get you to bed,” she told him, going down the hallway and praying that the TARDIS would have a room close by.

“I want a mermaid,” the Doctor spoke, a small smile on his face despite how miserable he felt. Martha gazed at him, confused.

“A… mermaid?” she asked.

“An _Aqua Mermaid_ ,” he said, sighing and licked his lips. “It tastes like heaven.”

Martha, once more, had the urge to hurt him. “Are you talking about that god awful _poison_ you’ve been guzzlin’ down your throat?”

The Doctor grinned coyly, eyebrows raised as he reached in his pocket and put on his specks for absolutely no reason at all. “Mmm… anandamide and tryptophan neurotransmitters bouncing ‘round inside my head. I love me some mermaids; so much dopamine an’… stuff. My favorite. I have it ev’ry time I go there.”

Martha nearly choked on her own saliva. “What do you mean ‘every time’?” She glanced at his face, which was looking a lot happier the more she questioned his taste in alcoholic beverages.

“I _mean_ that I like mermaids a lot, duuuuuh,” he giggled, much to Martha’s surprised ears. He simply did _not_ giggle, manic personality or not. “I like having multiple servings to get all loose. I can’t get drunk so I drink ‘s many ‘s I want.”

Martha wanted to laugh at him, but she couldn’t. The way the Doctor was talking made her question how often he did this to himself. _What’s wrong with him? I know he’s lost so much but I can’t imagine._

“… Doctor?”

“Mm?” the Doctor said, looking at her as he stumbled a bit, his specks falling off his nose slightly.

“Is… is there anything wrong? Anything you want to talk about?”

“No, no, of course not!” he slurred, throwing his weight around. “’m always fine, Mart’a!”

Martha looked at the ground, thinking to herself. “Yeah, that’s what I thought…”

She opened a door somewhere down the hall, which had what looked to be a random guest bedroom, though whether it was his room specifically she wasn’t sure. She was at least thankful that it came with a bathroom to her left, where the Doctor could hopefully run to if things got messy.

It didn’t take long for the Doctor to settle himself on the bed as he buried himself in the covers. His face was so innocent, like a child, as he continued to giggle about nothing in particular. Martha never saw such a sight since she’s been onboard, and he always appeared so intellectual whenever he was around her, friendly and excited for the next adventure yet always so guarded.

_Is that why he drank? Just to feel bubbly for the sake of it?_

Martha shook her head, sitting down on the bed beside him as though she were his own mother while the Doctor was somewhere out in his own little world. “Doctor?”

“Yes, Mar’ta?” the Doctor slurred.

“How are you feeling?”

As if on cue, the Doctor’s face contorted into an uncomfortable grimace as he turned on his side again. She heard his stomach retort loudly, and she couldn’t help but feel bad for him. He was starting to look pale again.

“Tummy ache,” he complained, putting a hand to his mouth. She saw him stiffen, and immediately she knew what was coming. Grabbing the nearest trashcan, she sprinted over to him at the last second just as he started retching. With her hand on his back for support, she waited for his body to relax as she shook her head. After a small cough, the Doctor lifted his head as his body shook out of shock. His forehead was covered in sweat, but he felt freezing cold.

It took another few retches and a bucket change for the Doctor to finally lie down on the bed, and he wanted to desperately get some sleep. He couldn’t stop shaking from the adrenaline, but was thankful that Martha was there. However, no matter how soft the blankets were, or how layered his suit was, he still felt cold.

Martha went into the bathroom to grab him a small glass of water, and not surprisingly the Doctor started talking again. “Marthaaaa, don’t leave me!” She rolled his eyes at his whimpering, turning off the facet and set the water down on the little desk beside the bed. “Marthaaaaa… Martha, come baaaaack…” She turned back to him, and what she saw made her heart break.

He was crying. It was strange since he was happy just minutes before he started hurling, but tears were streaming down his face, his eyes puffy. Martha bit her bottom lip, not sure what to do.

“I… I don’t wanna do this an’more,” he sobbed, sniffing.

Again Martha couldn’t help but respond to him in a motherly fashion, pushing his hair away from his forehead and running her fingers through the top of his head. The Doctor started crying harder once she did so, as if he was pouring every emotion out of his hearts in response to her concern.

“What don’t you want to do, sweetheart?” Martha said quietly, trying to be patient.

Choking, the Doctor said, “I don’t want all this!” He lurched his hands out to gesture towards the whole room, but Martha put his hands back against his side to avoid him falling off the bed. “I don’t want t’ be a joke! I don’t wan’ t’ be a failure!” He was practically screaming now. Martha had to hold him steady to keep him from getting any more violent. “I ‘ust wan’ it all to stop!”

Martha shushed him, trying to get him to look at her and calm down. She couldn’t bare seeing him in so much pain, and it ripped her heart in two to see him struggling in such a way that she never saw before. Tears were dripping off of his chin, almost like a waterfall, and all she wanted to do was wrap him up in her arms and stop his crying.

“Shh… what do you want to stop, Doctor?” she asked quietly, shifting closer to his side. He suddenly leaned against her, putting his head in her lap since he couldn’t sit up and not sway from side to side. Despite not drinking for a good while, he was still tipsy and emotionally unstable.

He didn’t look up at her, and instead was facing away from her body as he lay on her lap. He choked out a response: “Ev’rything.” The Doctor wept, hardly able to speak. “I wan’ to die…”

Martha’s eyes widened in shock, her heart in her throat, as the Doctor’s fists tightened until his knuckles turned white. She grasped his hand, suddenly feeling scared of what he’ll do next as she unraveled his fingers. “Why would you say something like that?”

The Doctor swallowed, taking in a few breaths. “I hate feeling alone. I don’t want to be this way! I’d rather _die_ than live ‘s long as I do! I dun wan’ t’ be like Laz’rus…”   

Martha’s face contorted in bewilderment. “Lazarus? Doctor… Doctor, stop that—”

“Just kill me now! I can’ take it anymore!” His eyes were ablaze, staring into hers with a wildness Martha never wanted to see again. She took his face in her hands and lowered him back down on her lap as he once again burst into tears, soaking her leg. Martha felt disturbed, if not frightened, by his behavior, sober or not. She wishing he would take back the awful words he spoke, but she knew that he couldn’t control what he was talking about under the influence. She was struggling with tears herself, and held them in for his sake.

The Doctor stayed in her lap for a long time as she stroked his head, fingers in his hair, as she seemed to have calmed him down just enough for him to breathe easy. By now he had wrapped his free arm around her body, with his arm curled near the base of her spine and his face close to her stomach. Each little movement he did made Martha shiver, though she hated how he was unintentionally arousing her. She cared about him so much, but she knew he would never do something like this when he was abstinent.

“…Martha?” she heard him ask softly, his voice muffled as he talked with his head facing her abdomen. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her.

“Mm?”

“’m thirsty…”

Reluctant to move when everything was so serene, she reached out for the glass of water and helped the Time Lord sit up. Just by lifting his head she could tell every movement was torture for his brain, and he reacted dizzily to his surroundings. He was successful in taking the glass of water, and at first he was having difficulty in bringing it to his lips. He was soon gulping down large mouthfuls in an attempt to relieve his parched throat.

“Hey, hey, easy!” Martha said, holding the bottom of the glass of water until he finished. “Baby sips, Doctor, baby sips. We don’t want you getting sick again, all right?”

Suddenly, the Doctor lurched in the opposite direction as his hiccups started up again, making some of the water spill on the bed as well as all over him and Martha. He blushed sheepishly, holding the glass while Martha threw up her hands in utter defeat.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Martha exclaimed, clearly annoyed. “Not again!”

“’s not— _hic_ —my fault.”

His companion let out a long sigh. “Just… just _go to sleep_ , please.” Rubbing her face and getting up from the bed, she was on her way out the door. By now she was exhausted, and planned on making up for lost hours. As she expected, she didn’t get too far.

“Wait!” the Doctor cried out. He was reaching out for her, as if to grasp her hand.

Martha turned back around, about ready to throw the nearest pillow at him to shut his gob. “Yes, love?” she said, scowling. The Doctor seemed to recognize her irritation and shrunk back slightly, feeling shy.

“Stay with me?”

Tired, Martha asked with droopy eyes, “Why?”

His body jerked from another hiccup. “I don’t want to be alone.”

For a moment, Martha thought she heard his old voice again, but remembering his emotional breakdown just minutes ago, she tried to tell herself that it was the _Aqua Mermaid_ talking. His eyes pleaded like a sad puppy, and she could tell that he was truly scared. With her hand still on the doorknob she contemplated whether or not to agree to the idea.

“Please don’t leave me,” he said, looking on the verge of tears again.

Yawning, Martha stared at him as she pondered.

_Oh, god… how can I say no to him like this? You’re a heartless bitch, Martha, you really are. For god’s sake, he’s drunk!_

She smiled softly. “All right.”

The Doctor’s smile was huge as he let out a loud squee of delight, flopping down on the bed and bringing the covers up to his chin. Before Martha could scoot in next to him, she helped him get a few layers of clothing off of his body to prepare him for sleep. He protested along the way and complained about being cold, but he did little to stop her. Martha couldn’t even get under the covers before the Doctor had his arms around her in a loose hug, rubbing his face against her bare skin and sighing contently.

_Stop with those butterflies, Martha. He’s drunk, remember?_

“What… what are you doing?” she asked, slightly amused.

Her body shuddered along with his as the Time Lord hiccupped again. “You humans are so— _hic_ —toasty warm,” he purred, practically dragging poor Martha with him as he lay back down against the pillow. “A lovely 37 degr— _hic_ —degrees Celsius.” She wanted to join him in his never-ending hug, but she felt guilty in even thinking of going along with his antics. In a way she was afraid he’ll remember, and wasn’t willing to take that chance the next day. She didn’t move him, though, for she couldn’t help but find it adorable.  

For a few minutes after Martha turned out the lights, all she heard, and felt, was his goddamn hiccups. The Time Lord refused to leave her side, however, and as a result kept her awake as his diaphragm spasms shook her body along with his.

“For goodness sake, can you get rid of them?” she said exasperatedly.

“How?”

“Hold your breath or something!”

It took a little while, but after a few tries at holding his breath, the Doctor’s hiccups had finally, _finally_ , stopped.

 _Thank god_ , Martha thought to herself. It, however, didn’t take too long at all for the Doctor to drift off to sleep, snoring lightly and laying as still as a statue. Martha looked at his peaceful face, wanting so badly to sneak a peck, but kissed his forehead instead as she neatened his hair. She tried not to think of the Doctor’s reasons for this strange night as she shut her eyes, waiting for the next morning with minimal enthusiasm.


End file.
